


Talk Flirty To Me

by c0cunt



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, April Fools' Day, High School, M/M, blind!Connie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 16:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6431023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0cunt/pseuds/c0cunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean really doesn't want to spend the last weekend before his 18th birthday at his father's house.  Instead, he escapes to the Springer household for a little while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk Flirty To Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> So, uhm...Yeah I spent the past...6.5 hours working on this after my dear friendo wrote a post about wanting to see blind!Connie. So here this is. And here we are.

  Of fucking _course_ it had to be today.  Jean wished it was an April Fool’s day prank, but his Maman was never one for jokes.  He would be going to spend the weekend with his father (that fucking asshole that walked out on them when Jean was just a few months away from starting kindergarten), and the only reason he was still being forced into doing this was being not even a goddamn week shy of turning 18.  Then he’d never have to deal with his father again, or weekends spent in the most boring fucking town of Mitras.  All Jean wanted to do that weekend (before being oh so kindly told mere minutes after flopping in through the door after school) was sit around with his best friend and narrate video games to him.   And now he had to cancel his plans with Connie all because of that jerk wanting to spend his last weekend where he could be forced into seeing him.

  “Maman, I’m going out for a bit,” Jean called, turning right back around in the doorway, backpack forgotten on the little bench by the front door.  Before Maman could say anything, Jean added “I told Connie I’d help him with a project for school, and if _he_ is gonna be taking me for the weekend…”  Jean frowned harshly as he closed the door behind him, Maman reminding him to be home by 8 so _daddy dearest_ could pick him up.  If he wasn’t...Well, the last time he was late with getting home when his father would be coming, and that just meant he’d be going home later, to ‘make up for lost time’ with him.  Fucking bullshit, in Jean’s opinion, but hey, no one wanted his damn opinion on how much time he wanted to spend with the conniving snake that his father was.  At least Jean could spend his remaining time hanging out with Connie.

  ...Jean should probably warn him that he was coming over.  Or at least warn Mrs. Springer, who always insisted on sending him home with at least half a batch of homemade cookies.  Which Jean totally needed.  Nodding to himself, as he slouched down the street, Jean shoved his phone against his ear as he struggled with his tangled earbuds, cursing quietly as the damn things just seemed to tangle up more the more he putzed with them.

  “Eyyo Jeanbo, didn’t I just hear from you like five minutes ago?”  Connie’s voice sounded a bit tinny, but just hearing his best friend made Jean relax a little bit more.  He sighed loudly into the phone, earbuds mostly forgotten.

  “Just making sure it’s okay for me to come over for a bit...My father wants to spend the weekend with me.”  Jean grumbled, shoving himself right back into his bad mood.  Connie let out a knowing hum, and Jean heard him pull the phone away from his ear to shout to his mom that Jean was on the way over.  Mrs. Springer shouted something back, and then Connie’s voice was no longer far away and muffled.

  “So you’ll be here in like, ten minutes?”  Connie asked, and Jean couldn’t help but smile as he grunted out an “uh-huh” as he quickly crossed the street he was on.  Ten minutes, give or take, he figured, and Connie shouted back to his mom that yeah, about ten minutes.  “Seeya soon then bro.”  Connie joked, hanging up as a laugh bubbled out of Jean’s throat.  Of course Connie would make a shitty joke, even if it was probably only made to try and lighten Jean’s mood.

  In fact, Jean did feel a lot better, after not even a full minute of talking with Connie.  He just...Always made Jean feel a lot better, no matter how shit a mood he was in.  Connie could probably cheer up just about anyone with not even an ounce of effort, let alone Jean’s moody ass.  A moody ass that had been even moodier as of late, thinking too much about how adorable Connie was.  Jean _couldn’t_ let himself have a crush on his best friend:  It felt too much like taking advantage of him, even though Jean knew for a fact that if either of them were being used, it was probably not Connie.  Especially at times when Connie demanded Jean find something he just _knew_ was in that pile of dirty clothes.  Oh, it wasn’t there?  Can you check in the garbage pail for me, Jean?  All Connie really had to do to get Jean to do something for him was bat his pretty, sightless eyes in his direction and pout, and Jean could end up spending three hours looking through a dumpster for his favorite pen that’d been misplaced.  All just to see Connie’s delighted smile when Jean would proudly press the found item into Connie’s waiting hand.

  There was a loud _snap_ that made Jean jump, and look around for the source, before realizing he’d been pulling too much on his earbuds.  Frowning even more as he held up the broken wire, Jean couldn’t help but feel like that was actually a very obvious warning of what would happen if he let Connie know that he had more-than-friendship feelings for him.  And he was without music for a few days, which was also pretty shitty.  Maybe _daddy dearest_ could do something decent for once and get him a new pair of earbuds.  Probably not, the cheap piece of shit he is wouldn’t spend a single penny more on Jean than he’d have to.  Once again back in his shitty mood, Jean shoved his garbage into his pocket and stomped the rest of the way over to Connie’s house.

 

* * *

 

  If pressed, Jean could probably draw a detailed map of Connie’s house.  It was practically his second home, spending more time on the worn out sofa in the Springer’s small living room than anywhere else (aside from Maman’s home and school).  It was all on one floor, too, which meant it was much easier for him to climb into Connie’s window on nights he was sent discreet texts to come and spend the night whispering about whatever bullshit Connie wanted him there about.  (It was usually just silly things, like Connie wanting Jean to listen to his silly plan of how to get Sasha and her current crush together, but sometimes it was the two of them whispering in the dark, curled up on Connie’s twin sized bed, talking about their fears of life after high school.)  But the best thing about their house, was Mrs. Springer assurances to Jean that if he ever needed a place to stay, the couch was would always be available.  

  Jean couldn’t help walking a bit faster when the family dog, Maisy (ironically, a Welsh Springer Spaniel) started barking her head off.  The dog absolutely loved Jean, and would only bark when Jean was walking up their path, so he didn’t need to ring the doorbell or knock.  Mrs. Springer opened the door just as Jean reached the tiny step up into the house.  Maisy immediately took advantage of the opening, wiggling her way out and running tight, dizzying circles around Jean’s legs and made him fear to step forward.  A sharp whistle from further inside got Maisy’s attention, letting Jean walk forward into Mrs. Springer’s expecting arms.  She was a tiny woman, and probably where Connie had gotten his height from, but she had just as much backbone as Jean’s own mother.  Which was to say, if the two of them banded together, they could easily take over the world.  But neither of them had any desire of world domination, and as Mrs. Springer pressed a pair of kisses onto Jean’s cheeks, he was very glad that the most that both women seemed to want was to keep their families happy.

  “Jeanbo, there you are,” Mrs. Springer said in a slightly scolding tone, as if Jean had been silly to not immediately come over instead of asking if it was okay to show up.  “Come, I’ve got cookies in the oven, and Connie is just in his room,”  She added, swishing back inside just as Maisy skittered across the hardwood flooring, heading straight for Jean, who was hurrying to take his shoes off before contact was made.  Thirty-seven pounds of dog hurled itself at Jean, as expected, and he easily scooped her up, tongue lolling and slobbering all over his face as he followed Mrs. Springer for a minute, closing the door behind him.

  “What kinda cookies are you making Mrs. Springer?”  Jean asked around Maisy’s face.  Mrs. Springer smiled at him over her shoulder as she headed into the kitchen, a slightly mischievous look on her face as she said “Oh, they’re oatmeal raisin.”  Jean scrunched his face up at that (or it could’ve been from Maisy’s tongue forcing its way into his mouth; that damn dog loved peppermint, and Jean usually only chewed peppermint gum), as Mrs. Springer disappeared into the kitchen.

  “April Fool’s!  I’m kidding, Jeanbo, they’re chocolate chip,” She said laughed, poking her head back around the corner just as Jean unceremoniously dumped Maisy down onto the sofa.  Maisy bounced right after him, her stubby tail wiggling happily as Jean leaned down to pat at her head, before following his nose into the kitchen.  “Go, now, Connie’s probably waiting for you,” Mrs. Springer shooed him away, shoving a pair of cookies from the cooling racks on the counter nearby into his hand.  

  “Thanks Mrs. Springer,” Jean said happily, leaning down slightly to kiss her on the cheek before spinning around and heading off towards Connie’s room.  Maisy followed close at Jean’s heels, eyes on the cookies held in his hands.  Connie’s door was closed, but that didn’t deter Jean in the least, opening the door as he hesitantly took a bite out of one of the cookies in his hand.  Thankfully they were chocolate chip, and Jean hummed delightedly as he closed the door behind him, Maisy letting out a little whine at not being allowed to follow.  Before the door had snapped shut, Jean was tackled from behind, and he let out a shriek as he nearly smashed his head into the door.  A familiar cackle started up behind him as familiar arms snaked around his waist, Connie’s left wrist still in the loop of his white cane.  

  “Glad you find nearly knocking my brain against your door amusing,” Jean grumbled, wiggling around until he was facing his best friend.  Connie grinned up at him, seeming to be unusually pleased, as if the idea of smashing Jean’s head so hard into his door that brain and other gross gunk would be on the door would be amusing.

  “What took you so long, you nerd.  Did you see Marco’s ass on the way over and get distracted?”  Connie teased as he let Jean wiggle loose.  Jean knew that Connie could probably sense how brightly he was blushing at the mention of their friend:  The fact that he found Marco as aesthetically pleasing as Mikasa was well known, enough that even Marco himself could lightly tease Jean without repercussion.  Jean shoved Connie’s shoulder lightly and shoved the unbitten cookie into Connie’s hand with a pout.

  “I did not!”  Jean loudly denied, huffing slightly as Connie’s hand slapped against his cheek.  He barely resisted as he was dragged down for both of his cheeks to be kissed, just like Mrs. Springer had done, a habit that his best friend didn’t seem to ever intend on breaking.  “You wouldn’t be laughing if I teased you about your crush on Samuel,” Jean grumbled as he was released, standing up straight and knocking lightly into Connie’s shoulder and crossing the room to flop onto his bed with a groan.  Connie shook his head as he pouted comically, before taking the rolling chair at his computer desk and sliding across the room to sit next to Jean.

  “Nah man, I’d still laugh.  Shit’s not worth gettin’ annoyed over.  Gotta learn to laugh at yourself bud.”  Connie shrugged slightly as he felt along the bed to figure out which way Jean had flopped onto it.  Without really thinking, Jean grabbed at his hand, freezing slightly as Connie’s warmer hand clasped around his.  Despite their size difference, their hands were almost the same size in length, but Connie’s hands were more meaty than Jean’s own.  Jean’s face burned even brighter when Connie didn’t let go, scooting his chair across the floor until he was about equal with Jean’s face, and leaned forward to lean his head against the bed.

  “So, sunshine, I know you got a cloud in your sky, wanna talk about it?”  Connie asked, and it was like the floodgates had opened.  Jean spent at least ten minutes ranting and raving, recounting all the numerous times that _daddy dearest_ had failed him and his Maman in the past, moodily finishing off his cookie as he spoke.  He didn’t want to spend his weekend in his tiny Mitras apartment, in a building that smelled like an unkempt chicken coop, when he could be hanging out with his best friend.  It was only as Jean was finally starting to wind down, that Connie’s right hand slapped against his face, his ring finger nearly stabbing him straight in the eye.

  “Jesus fucking christ Connie!  You’re gonna poke my eye out one day, seriously, what the fu-” Jean started, but was cut off very suddenly by Connie’s soft lips against his own, Connie’s hand tilting Jean’s head just the tiniest bit.  Jean was paralyzed for half a second, mind whirring to try and catch up with the fact that _his best fucking friend was kissing him_ .  Connie started to pull back, eyebrows furrowed (probably wondering if he had fucked up), by the time Jean realized, oh yeah, he was supposed to kiss back.  Jean surged forward then, heart beating wildly as he breathed in the scent of vanilla and wood smoke that was just purely _Connie_.  Connie breathed harshly through his nose, eyes wide open as his eyebrows smoothed out, returning Jean’s kiss gently.  It couldn’t have lasted more than three seconds before they both mutually pulled away, Connie leaning his head forward and nearly smacking straight into Jean’s nose as he let out the tiniest of laughs.

  “You don’t even know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Connie whispered, sounding almost starstruck.  Jean snorted slightly and squeezed the hand that hadn’t left his.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for at least a fucking year.”  Jean admitted lowly, dropping his gaze even though Connie wouldn’t know otherwise.  Connie froze and breathed deeply, a look of pure annoyance settling onto his features, which was Jean’s only warning that he was fucked.

  “Why didn’t you _say_ anything then, you dickbag!”  Connie squawked, his right hand slapping at Jean’s shoulders.  Jean yelped and raised his hands in defense, eventually grabbing the pillow behind his head to hide from Connie’s determined hands.  

  “Truce, truce!” Jean yelped, and the blows from Connie’s hands slowed to a stop.  Jean peeked out from behind the pillow, defensively hugging it to his chest as Connie settled back into his chair again.  “So...What do we do now?”  Jean asked, unsure of where this left them.  Were they going to do like some sort of bro code thing and never speak of this again?  Or did Connie…?

  “Wannagoonadatewithme?”  Connie spluttered out in one breath.  “Like, on Sunday?  After your father drops you home?”  He sounded hopeful, unconsciously producing a very convincing puppy-eyed look that had Jean weak at the knees.  Good thing Jean was laying down, and he didn’t even need a second to think about his answer.

  “S-sure!  Yeah, great!”  Jean said, trying and failing to sound 100% calm.  But damn, the grin Connie gave him was totally worth it, even if he was a stuttering fool.


End file.
